Lady Beverly paused in the act of seating herself in an ornate low-backed chair. “I’m not…you…what?”

“Bruck. The furniture, it’s Bruck. That’s a style, you goose. French, I think. Good morning, Wellington.” Charlotte swept aside a small pug from the settee and sat with a pleased smile, unaware of her hostess mouthing the word baroque. “How lucky you are in your situation, Caro. You have a husband who is not tight with the purse strings, a house on a fashionable square, lovely dark coloring that is always in fashion, and a neat figure that is shown to much advantage.”

Caroline blushed at the unexpected compliments, unused to being referred to as lovely. She had always been aware of the shortcomings inherent in having an unexceptional face and rather awkward figure, especially when compared with Charlotte’s perfection. “I…I hardly know what to say—”

“Then say nothing at all, sweet Caro,” Charlotte counseled, drawing a small case from her reticule. “Silence, as we know, is molten. Yes, you are a lucky woman in that you have been graced in the physical and husband departments, but your greatest asset must be the happiness and satisfaction that comes from being a cherished member of the ton. You, dearest Caro, are indeed in the position to count your blessings.”

“I…if you put it so, I suppose I am.”

Charlotte nodded. “You can always trust me to speak the truth. And as I am doing such, I have no hesitation in stating that you are also a generous and kind woman, one who does not care to see those she’s fond of hurt or left to feel less than wanted.”

Caroline blinked in surprise at such effusive praise. “Why, Charlotte! That’s very considerate of you to say so. To be honest, Mama said you were blind to the qualities of good in others, but I have always felt she maligned you.”

“Alas, I fear you are correct, I have been sorely abused by many who misunderstand my true nature.” Charlotte allowed an expression of profound martyrdom to settle on her face as she brushed a few stray dog hairs from her gown. “But say what your mother will, I have always seen your better side, Caro. Who else but someone as kindhearted as you would allow an elderly dog with a propensity to dribble to lounge around on her best Bruck sofa?”

Caroline rustled in her embroidery basket for a handkerchief to dab back a tear brought on by such clear-sighted understanding of her inner self. “Thank you, Charlotte.”

“Not at all. You deserve every ounce of happiness possible in your life. The question is, my dear friend, do you believe I deserve the same?”

“Of course you do!” Caroline sniffed militantly and looked ready to dispute anyone’s attempt to say otherwise. “You’re speaking of Lord Carlisle, aren’t you? There’s nothing that would please me more than to see you happily married.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because I am about to make you very happy indeed!”